


one hand to admire, the other to hold

by highfalutin baby birb (fevered_dreams)



Series: from the spaces in-between, we find each other [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 08:08:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15968231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fevered_dreams/pseuds/highfalutin%20baby%20birb
Summary: Keith sees the changes in Lance's hands first. Other things follow in its place.Lance's hands were very nice and pretty.Keith first noticed Lance's hands years ago, when they were still bright-eyed cadets at the GarrisonIt wasn't difficult to notice Lance's hands, after all. It was interesting to watch the flick of Lance's wrists, and the curl of his fingers in time with the crinkle of his eyes as he laughed.And Keith had been a bored, lonely boy back then.





	one hand to admire, the other to hold

**Author's Note:**

> i was a bit loose with the canon timeline for the sake of this story, but i hope it still makes sense regarding how it fits into everything

In the beginning, Lance's hands were soft. His long, slim fingers never looked cracked or strained, and there were no small, scattered wounds across the backs of them like there were on Keith's hands. Even Lance's nails were well-trimmed, shining and strong from diligent care.

Lance's hands were very nice and pretty.

Keith first noticed Lance's hands years ago, when they were still bright-eyed cadets at the Garrison - back when Lance hadn't yet been separated into the cargo cadet class, and back when Keith felt optimistic about the future because Shiro was still around to make Keith feel like everything would be just fine.

It wasn't difficult to notice Lance's hands, after all. He flapped them around even more than his mouth when he spoke, flinging them here and there with each word. Keith found it hard to pay much attention to what Lance was actually saying because of it. It was much more interesting to watch the flick of Lance's wrists, and the curl of his fingers in time with the crinkle of his eyes as he laughed.

And Keith had been a bored, lonely boy back then.

Then, Keith had been assigned to the fighter pilot class while Lance had bowed his head at his own assignment to the cargo pilot class, and Keith wasn't able to see Lance's hands much after that.

And then, everything had gone downhill with Shiro's disappearance. As desperate as he was to find Shiro again, Keith had nearly forgotten all about Lance's hands and laugh until they both came back upon him fast and fierce.

The first time Keith ever touched Lance's hands was on the same time Keith found Shiro again. Lance's hands felt surprisingly soft and supple as they brushed against Keith's. So much so that Keith could even feel the lingering slide of the lotion layered so thick over Lance's skin.

It was odd, though, compared to Keith's own hands; Keith's skin was splitting apart into bright red lines that wasn't anywhere near as bright as his desire for something more. They didn't sting nearly as much, either.

Lance's hands were soft in other ways, too. The way he reached towards the Blue Lion, eyes bursting with awe and wonder, was so sweet and gentle. Keith didn't know if he would've been able to approach the Blue Lion with the same tickle-tap of airy breeze and languid lap of gentle water that Lance had.

Keith didn't know if his hands could ever be that soft.

Maybe that was exactly why the Blue Lion chose Lance, instead.

At the same time, Lance's hands were strong. They had been so assured as he boarded the Blue Lion, hauling the rest of them in with him, and Keith had to admit, Lance was far better of a pilot than Keith had expected from a cargo cadet.

Lance's grip on his controls, during the few times Keith saw it up-close, was always firm, hands determined.

His hands were also strong when he shot. Keith didn't know where Lance got it from, but his aim appeared to Keith unparalleled and unwavering.

So, Keith knew. Keith knew that Lance's hands were strong, but they were also soft in the way that Keith's hands were rough.

At least, Keith thought that Lance's hands were soft. After awhile, he had come to expect the softness.

Except, they weren't after he returned from the quantum abyss to see Lance again from what felt like so long. Lance's _face_ didn't look all that different; a bit more tired and harried, but still held high with the youthful handsomeness that was so singularly Lance.

His hands, however, were not soft. The clasp of Lance's hand in Keith's own was as strong as ever, but it was not soft.

Keith couldn't help but quickly run his fingers against Lance's palms as they both drew away because now there were cracks, callouses, barely-there scars. Lance hadn't had those before. Keith was somehow convinced that he never would have them.

"How have things been?" Keith asked. It was a rare moment between them - alone together and at peace amidst the mess around them. "Since I left?"

Lance shrugged. "Not too bad, I guess. It's not like we couldn't handle things without you, even if we cut it a bit close sometimes. How about you?"

Lance did not move his hands when he spoke as much now. Instead, he held them close to himself, clasped tight against each other. The most he did was fiddle his fingers together aimlessly. Keith glanced downwards and found that Lance's nails, too, were not as neat as they used to be.

"It was fine," Keith replied. " _Long_ , though. But I think it was good for me."

"Well, you did get a cool dog." Lance chuckled and picked at his hands again. He mindlessly scratched off an errant piece of dead skin, revealing a small flicker of blood in its place. "Even though I still think my Kaltenecker is cooler."

Keith chuckled in response quietly because he didn't know what else to do. When had Lance's hands become so rough?

Lance was different in others ways, too. He was more subdued, which Keith didn't always find to be a bad thing. And yet, Keith missed it; he missed rambunctious little Lance swathed in baby fat and bright smiles as he spoke about his future as a fighter pilot with his hands. Lance's smiles now were still sweet and pretty, but nowhere near the same sunburst, daybreak brightness from before.

They had been so bright, in fact, that Keith had found it difficult to look at them directly. He used to always averted his eyes, even if just a bit, even if he tried to force himself to look at it head on.

And now he was left to mourn the fact that he had missed his chance to do so.

still, Keith was curious to see how strong Lance's hands were now.

Part of Keith wanted to ask Lance whether or not he'd let Keith sit in on him as he piloted the Red Lion, just so he could see how Lance held onto the controls.

Keith knew that the controls in all the lions were mostly the same, but he also knew they were wildly different. The Black Lion was nothing like the Red Lion, and that had terrified and upset Keith when he had first laid his own hands upon them.

Had Lance felt the same, when he first sat inside the Red Lion's cockpit? Keith knew the Red Lion didn't particularly need a gentle touch or soft coos, the way Keith suspected the Blue Lion preferred. Were Lance's hands stronger now, or just less soft?

Cosmo, at least, was able to give Keith an idea.

"Keith, I do think Cosmo is a wonderful member of this team," Allura began slowly one day, voice smooth and words pointed in that diplomatic princess voice of hers that she liked to sweep over them on occasion. "And, I will admit, he is quite cute, but I think that... I just have personally trouble bonding with him, the same way the rest of you do. We don't have what you call 'dogs' or 'wolves' on Altea like you do on Earth."

"But Cosmo needs to travel with someone," Keith argued.

"How about Lance?" Allura suggested. "I've seen how much he likes playing with Cosmo. I think he'd enjoy traveling with him _far_ more than I do."

Before Keith could say more, Allura was already leading Cosmo to the Red Lion. Luckily, Lance was more than happy to welcome Cosmo in with him.

"Oh, look who's here!" Lance cooed, ruffling Cosmo behind the ears with vigor. Cosmo returned the gesture by ramming his head into Lance's hands, demanding more attention and pets. "You wanna come in and hang out with me and Kaltenecker? Huh, boy?"

"I thought you said that Kaltenecker was way cooler than Cosmo!" Keith called out. "Now you're suddenly all over him?"

"Hey, that doesn't mean that I don't like Cosmo!" Lance called back. "Besides, opinions can change."

"Don't let Kaltenecker hear that."

According to Cosmo, Kaltenecker didn't really mind all that much, in the end. Kaltenecker apparently didn't care about much besides eating and Lance, and, as long as Lance liked Kaltenecker well enough, that was well enough for Kaltenecker, too.

Cosmo had also come back to deliver other news, tail wagging and ears perked with intrigue. Lance's hands were still strong, wrapped tight around the Red Lion's controls without a hint of hesitation or doubt. Sometimes, though, they held so tight that Cosmo feared Lance's still-long and still-thin fingers would completely snap in half from the pressure.

But, they hadn't because Lance's hands were strong. At the same time, they were so soft. They were soft in the moments when there was a long enough lull in their travels for Lance to loosen his grip and run playful fingers through Cosmo's fur.

According to Cosmo, Lance's touch was wonderfully soft and almost addictive.

And, according to Cosmo, it was Keith's duty to learn how to pet better from Lance.

So, Keith used that as an excuse to go and seek out Lance in the few moments of in-between. It was surprisingly difficult, though. Somehow, it seemed like Lance was never around to coincidentally stumble upon like Keith wanted to.

One slow day, Keith was finally able to find Lance without actually having to go out and find him.

"Lance," Keith began, stepping forward to where Lance was, alone and tired in the training room. For some reason, Lance was carrying a practice broadsword in a tight grip. "Would you mind if we sparred together a bit?"

"You're just asking me because you know that you'll be able to kick my ass in close combat," Lance huffed, breath unsteady and sweat prickling at the sides of his face. "Wouldn't it be better to train with Shiro, instead?"

"I already train with Shiro," Keith replied, "but you can only train with someone so many times before it starts to get boring."

Keith paused to take in the broadsword again. Lance's grip around it looked strong, even if a bit awkward.

"And it doesn't have to be close combat. You can use an practice energy rifle or something, if you want," Keith continued. He looked back up and noticed that Lance's eyes, too, were not as light as swimming as they used to be.

"But what's the fun in that? I'm not sure it'd be much of a training session for either of us if I just shot at you from afar while you ran around me with your knife in hand."

Keith had to concede that Lance was right, even if it robbed him of his desire to see how Lance's hands looked as he held onto his bayard.

Still, Lance was better with the practice broadsword than Keith expected. His movements weren't exactly refined, but they weren't sloppy, either, as Keith would've expected from a complete novice. Keith was too wary to actually go at Lance at his fullest ability, but he found that he didn't really need to hold himself back all that much, ultimately.

Lance clearly knew what he was doing with that broadsword, even if he didn't have all the experience necessary to be considered truly skilled.

"You've gotten better with close-range weapons, I see," Keith noted afterwards through his unsteady breaths. He handed Lance a glass of water, which Lance accepted with a small thanks.

Their fingers brushed briefly, and even Lance's fingertips felt terribly calloused.

"I've been practicing. In case I get into a sticky situation, I don't want to put the team in danger just because I don't know how to use a sword."

Keith nodded, but he felt uneasy.

He wasn't exactly sure why until he walked in on Lance training again a few days later. Lance still had a broadsword, but this time it was real and lay lone on the floor beside Lance while he bled.

"Lance!"

Keith rushed over to Lance, eyes fixed on the wound on Lance's hand. It looked bad, and it bled worryingly fast, but Lance didn't look that concerned. In fact, he looked more annoyed than anything else.

"Lance, what happened?" Keith asked, already pressing his palm down against Lance's to help staunch the bleeding.

Lance just shook his head and hastily drew his hand away. "I was training with one of the sparring bots, and I messed up. I instinctively put my hand up to shield myself, so it nicked me there before I was able to disable it."

Lance glanced down at his hand, brow furrowed and lips thin. "It's fine. It was my mistake."

"Let's get you to a healing pod," Keith whispered.

"I don't need a healing pod for this. I'll just wrap something around it, and it'll stop bleeding soon enough."

"But, if we take you to a healing pod for it, it won't leave a scar."

"Does it matter if it leaves a scar?" Lance asked.

"Doesn't it?" Keith refuted.

Lance just shook his head and kept his hand close to his chest. Keith waited, hoping that Lance would give in, before coming to terms with the fact that Lance was still as stubborn as ever.

"What were you doing with a real broadsword, anyway?" Keith asked. "And why did you have the robot level set so high?"

"Because Lotor and all his Galra lackeys are out there!" Lance responded angrily. His face, twisted up in frustration, looked more weathered than Keith ever remembered Lance looking. It was unsettling. "And they're all good at close combat! _Everyone_ is, in their own way. Everyone except for me," Lance finished with a whisper, so tired and low.

"But that's because you're our sharpshooter. You're supposed to fight at long-range," Keith breathed. "You don't need to be good at using a sword or hand-to-hand combat or anything like that."

"And what if I find myself in a situation where I don't have my bayard, or I have to fight someone up close?" Lance demanded. "What then? I just let myself fuck everything up because I can't fight someone properly?"

"Lance, I don't know why you'd think that would ever happen." Keith reached his hand forward again towards Lance's still bleeding palm. This time, Lance didn't draw away, and Keith pushed forward until he could feel Lance's blood drip down onto his skin, warm and viscous. "We would never let that happen."

He inched forward once more and felt Lance's hand unfurl the slightest bit at Keith's soft touch. The heat radiating off of him was even warmer than his blood.

" _I_ would never let that happen, Lance."

This time, Lance was the one to bridge what remains of the gap between them. He pushed his hand forward until his palm was pressed against Keith's. Like this, Keith could practically feel the pulse of Lance's quickening heartbeat through his wound, through his still moving blood.

With what he hoped was softness, Keith took Lance's hand in his own to raise it to his lips. He wasn't even sure if the press of his lips against Lance's wound could've truly been considered a kiss, but Lance's eyelashes fluttered like it was. The taste of metal lingered even after he let Lance's hand fall away, but the soft warmth remained.

"Do you mean it?" Lance asked. His face was once again young and handsome without that odd, drawn expression that Keith never wanted to see again. "Do you really mean it, Keith?"

"Yeah," Keith breathed. "I mean it."

"But you left. You left us. Left me."

"I know," Keith whispered because he did know. He had left and missed all the things that had changed and missed all the things that he wanted to still be the same. He missed Lance's soft, pretty hands terribly. "But I'm here now, aren't I?"

Lance didn't respond for some time. Instead, he looked at Keith with considering eyes. They darted around at seemingly random intervals, but Keith knew that he must've been searching for _something_.

Apparently, he was able to find it.

"I guess you are."

Lance's hand was still bleeding, albeit slowly now. Regardless, the amount of blood Lance lost was not wholly insignificant. Keith urged Lance to stay seated while applying pressure to the wound as Keith went to quickly grab some disinfectant and gauze.

"Here, let me," Keith said.

This time, without any hesitation, Lance laid his hand in Keith's and waited patiently for Keith to tend to his wound, only wincing slightly at the sting of the disinfectant spray. Looking at it cleaned up, Keith found that the cut wasn't really that large at all, just deep. Even if it did leave a scar, Keith didn't think it'd be anything that noticeable.

And, poking and prodding and Lance's hand, wiping the crusted blood away and swathing a generous layer of gauze over it, Keith found that Lance's hand was still quite pretty and soft.

The skin itself was rougher, but the way the pads of Lance's hands dipped underneath Keith's touch was gentle and soft. The way Lance's slender fingers curled and brushed against the back of Keith's hands was nice and pretty.

He was warm and alive, so sweet and _soft_ , just as Keith had always remembered.

"Thank you," Lance breathed after Keith was finished. "For everything."

"Of course," Keith replied with a kind of sincerity that would've scared him, years ago. Now, it felt right. "Just promise me one thing?"

"What's that?"

"If you still insist on trying to learn how to use a close-combat weapon, let me help?"

Lance blinked once, expressionless, before his face broke out in that bright smile Keith missed.

"Only if you promise not to hold back on me like you did before."

"We'll see."

Lance smiled, and it looked stunning.

**Author's Note:**

> i've been considering applying to zines, so i've been trying to practice writing shorter stories! it was harder than i thought it would be haha. there's something nice about not having to try to say everything you want in a limited number of words
> 
> anyway, please let me know what you think! does this feel like a complete story as is, or does it feel underdeveloped or rushed?
> 
> if you want to talk to me or want to know more about my writing, you can find me on [tumblr](https://fever-d-dreams.tumblr.com)


End file.
